


[2.5]Bonds of Love At Peace's Demise

by CherryFlight



Series: SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [13]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Between chapters 2 and 3, Fluff, M/M, With background angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-06
Updated: 2020-03-06
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:14:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23041558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryFlight/pseuds/CherryFlight
Summary: War breaking out again is the perfect time to fall back in love with your ex who is now on the other side, right?
Relationships: Male Imperial Agent | Cipher Nine/Male Smuggler
Series: SWTOR: The Reflections Legacy [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643305
Kudos: 1





	[2.5]Bonds of Love At Peace's Demise

“Only you could come off Hoth looking _healthier_ ,” said Abric, taking a sip of his drink.

“I _am_ Chiss. We evolved on an ice world, after all,” Natirru said, trying and failing to inject any humor into the delivery. He had noticed that Abric hadn’t seemed to actually swallow anything from his glass - it was no less full than when he’d picked it up. He was never one to drink slowly, and Natirru knew it. The poor man was worried sick. Their friend Flow had gone missing after a mission Abric would only say was an immense risk. Oberon insisted Flow was alive - as the sole Force sensitive with a link to Flow among them, they had to take his word for it - but the young Sith was troubled by something. Something was _wrong_ , he insisted, and every time they met at their mutual friend’s apartment on Nar Shaddaa like this, he not only could not tell where Flow was, but could sense nothing of him except that he was _there_.

“You looked like hell when we fought that pirate,” Abric said, trying to distract both of them from their missing Jedi friend. It only made Natirru worry more. He could hear Oberon’s lightsaber crashing against a training dummy in the next room. He never had to work off nervousness in practice. It was always other things. That the lightsaber had originally been Flow’s was probably not insignificant. Maybe its use strengthened their bond. He wouldn’t know.

Everyone had been pushed to things they wouldn’t otherwise do.

“Things have happened since we fought that pirate.”

“Yeah.” Staring into his glass, Abric sighed. “So…war’s back on, why aren’t you back home doing…spy stuff? Coordinating or whatever.”

“I’ve been given time to recover. To…‘remember who I am’, while things are still somewhat quiet.”

He’d already remembered, of course. It took being stretched nearly to breaking to do it, but he’d realized where he belonged, where he needed to be, and needed it so strongly that if he didn’t help himself he knew he would not be able to help anyone else.

He had broken Abric’s heart. Not so long ago, in the grand scheme of things, but plenty of time for that pain to take root and grow into a parasitic vine on his soul. It had nearly led to his own death at his hands, some months ago, when Abric himself had nearly snapped. And though he wasn’t pushed to murder, here he was, his turn to stare insanity in the face and search for a better way. And in searching, in taking on extra work, in running into Abric on Hoth a second time, they had secured that better way with a kiss.

“Abric…” Natirru reached over to take his hand.

“Let me guess,” said Abric, wrapping his fingers tight around his hand. “You haven’t been 'who you are’ since you left me, or some sentimental nerfshit like that?” Despite his worry, he was smirking. That was always a heartening sign.

“Something like that,” said Natirru, finding himself smirking right back. Whatever their differences, they’d always had some common ground. In this case, a healthy appreciation of sarcasm, wherever it could be found. “You can’t pretend you don’t _enjoy_ that 'sentimental nerfshit’.”

“Heh. Got me there,” he said quietly, and he set his glass down, so he could reach up to tilt his chin up for a kiss. Natirru leaned into it, gently pulling Abric close. War had broken out, and they were on opposite sides - semi-formally, now that Abric had a privateering contract. This was a bad idea by all counts, but avoiding it was worse by far as far as he was concerned. It seemed Abric was of the same mind - wanting to hold on and never let go again, because when he broke the kiss, the break didn’t last. Unlike on Hoth, when it had simply been too cold to let it stretch on, they were in relative comfort and safety, and it was clearer now than it ever had been just how dearly they’d missed one another. Natirru, too, was loathe to give up the comfort of Abric’s affection, an old comfort that brought him back to happier days.

He would have gladly let himself be lost in Abric’s kisses and his arms, if the door to the room hadn’t slid open just then. Oberon stood in the doorway, shivering, words tumbling through tears in a blind panic.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I could sense- it’s Flow. He’s- He’s coming, he’s been-…he’s _hurt_ , he…he’s hurt. He’s in so much pain.”

“Well, that’s a way to kill a romantic mood,” said Abric, unable to force his voice from a shocked monotone in spite of having a quip on hand. Natirru swallowed and gently pushed Abric away, fastening the one button on his jacket that had been undone. Act calm, act collected - that was the way to keep the atmosphere away from panic. Abric rose from the couch, zombie-like. His face was pale.

“It will be all right,” Natirru assured them both. He took Abric’s hand to lead him towards the door, and put his other hand on Oberon’s shoulder as he turned to guide them to the landing pad. “He’s alive, and he knows where to get help. Let’s go meet him.”

That was his role, in everything, to keep his loved ones healthy and whole. He would protect the damaged and heal their wounds. Whatever this war had thrown at Flow to injure him such that his mental state brought Oberon to such distress, he would help. Whatever happened and whatever the future would bring, they had to stick together. Love would see them through.

**Author's Note:**

> Slang varies widely by geography, time period, and...pretty much every factor imaginable. So I had a little bit of fun with what Abric would use. Most of the time he uses the more neutral "bantha fodder", lets people think he's from somewhere else. But actually, he grew up a lower class Alderaanian! And every so often, he uses things like "nerfshit" that hint at that.


End file.
